


Apex

by Roadstergal



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Polyamory, Racing, Rivalry, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, your biggest rival is the only one who understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
It was all too much to take.  
  
Not in the way you probably think, though.  Yes, the pain at the hospital was quite bad.  But at least I never had to worry about the memory of the pain of the accident.  My memory stopped before the accident - and next thing I knew, I was in the hospital.  John told me, later, that I was asking about my face at the accident scene.  Silly thing for me to worry about, my face.  My hands were okay.  What more did I need?  
  
No, what was too much to take was to see James win.  Germany, Netherlands, taking nine points from me with each win, nine punches to the gut.  Without me there, he had no need to push the car, to push himself.  No mechanical failures, no teasing at the limits with tire track and fuel - just easy races to easy victories.  I couldn't let that keep going.  I had to push myself, push myself out of my bed and into my car.  Of course, all we can do is try our best, so how could I not try?  
  
At the track, James was himself, clapping me on the back and telling me I was the only person who could come out of a fire looking better than before I went in.  I had to notice that he was the only person who looked me in the eyes, that first day back.  Everyone else, their eyes would go to the place where my ear used to be, follow the bandages over my forehead, and look away.  Of course they would look away, it was a gruesome sight.  I know, I have mirrors.  How it didn't bother James, I _don't_ know.  Perhaps he's seen worse at the parties he goes to.  
  
With the helmet on, we all look the same anyway.  Little bump of driver, four wheels, an exhaust, a big wing over the height of my head.  Once I could focus on that, once I could forget the terror and lose myself in watching the nervous twitching of the cars around me, their entries and exits, plotting against their weaknesses and finding my place to pass - yes, well, then, everything was normal again, everything was right.  I took my points and went home.

 

James called me that night.  _Those Italian assholes...  
  
_ Well, I told him, they are Italian, you are battling the Italian team, what do you expect?  
  
 _I expect them to have a little respect, is what I expect!_  
  
That's quite silly of you.  You are behind, so they will hate you.  Like when you win, they love you.  Only a dumb asshole expects anything else...  
  
He hung up the phone.  He is a stupid man, sometimes.

 

He seemed to have forgotten all of this when I saw him again in Canada.  17:00 check-in into the hotel, he's already drunk, leaning through the passage door between our rooms, waving around a beer and telling me that he's going to kick my ass.  I correct him, tell him, no, I kick your ass.  
  
 _You think you can scare me off-line with that face of yours.  It didn't scare me before, it doesn't scare me now._  
  
I kept folding my clothes away.  He got bored and went to find a party.

 

It was perhaps not so smart to go back into his room later.  But he came back alone - he makes so much noise with women, I can always tell - and I had to finish the talk.  I don't even have to win the last three races, I told him. Just finish on the podium, and the championship is mine again.  
  
 _What, don't you want to win?  
  
_ Of course I do, and I will.  But I don't have to.  
  
 _I'm sorry I made those jokes about your face.  I shouldn't have.  
  
_ I blink when I'm surprised, but the eyelids weren't yet working properly.  Why should you apologize for your stupid jokes now? I asked.  You never did before.  
  
 _It's a very nice face._    
  
He walked closer. He's a tall enough man, and I have to look up at him.  I find I sometimes enjoy that.  I asked him just how drunk he was to be saying things like that.  
  
 _Very_ , he said, and then he kissed me.  
  
It was not a very good kiss, as these things go.  He was _very_ drunk, his breath would catch fire if I had a match, and he stumbled and grabbed at my face.  It hurt enough that I made some noise, and he put his tongue - god knows where _it_ has been - into my mouth.  
  
I had never been kissed by a man, and this was _James_ , no less, a good friend of mine, but a man very much more interested in women. I can't tell you why he did it, why he held me tight and kissed me like that, why he kept touching my forehead and scalp, everywhere I still hurt, why he pressed me up against the wall.  And I could not tell you why it took so long for me to finally push him away, to close and lock the door, to sit on the bed and call Marelene and describe, in as much detail as I could remember, the practice session of that day.  
  
The receiver turned her sigh into a sharp hiss, and she asked me, _What's really going on, Niki?  
  
_ James kissed me.  
  
 _Well, that took him long enough._  
  
I couldn't tell you why she said that, either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd heard James mention in interviews that he and Niki sometimes shared adjacent rooms in hotels during their F1 times, and would cross to visit. I could never get over that...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments on my fic. I found another chapter lying around in my brain somewhere...

 

The doorbell rang while I was still in the shower, just after a mid-morning run.  I did not bother to rush - Marlene would take care of it.  And yes, I could just hear the door open over the sound of water, hear the low tone of her voice, the words indistinct - and then the brash, loud tone of James's voice.  I did rush, then, putting on my robe as I went down the stairs.

"There you are!"  James was, of course, dressed so fashionably that he looked utterly ridiculous.  Tight trousers that clung to his hips, brightly-colored shirt that opened almost to his navel.  Was it genetic that he was so smooth in the chest, or did he shave?  I had to remember to make fun of him for that - I had wasted too many opportunities when we lived together.

"You can't afford a hotel room?" I asked, tying up my robe.  He laughed, undisturbed.  Well, of course, when you're champion, nothing gets you down.  It's a very good feeling.

"I wanted to pay a social visit!  And to see your lovely wife."  James kissed her, excessively, roguishly.

She is a sensible woman, though, not one to dissolve under a playboy's attention like that.   "I'll get you two some tea," she said, evenly.  "Go sit in the sun-room out back..."

"Miserable weather," James commented as he sat down in what was, at the moment, not a sun-room.

"You're from England, and you're talking to me about miserable weather?"

"Yes, that's why I'm traveling!  I wanted to escape the weather a bit."

I shrugged.  "You're in the wrong place, this time of year.  Go to Italy."

"Trust me, I am.  I'm headed to the Riviera.  Nobody dresses like Italian women!" James took a teacup from Marlene as she put the tray down. 

"Or undresses like them?" I asked, taking my own.  Really, I never did understand James's need to have sex with as many women as possible.  He had tried to explain it to me, once, and it had gone right over my head.  He had been very drunk, which probably hadn't helped.

"God, yes, I'm dying of cabin fever.  Don't you miss it?"  He looked around, clearly indicating our house, the smallness and quiet-ness of it all.  "The excitement, the parties?"

"I don't."

"Perhaps a little," Marlene commented.  She had always been more lively than me, which was one of the reasons I married her.  A good foil to me, a decent balance.  We had recently gotten her a temporary lover, a younger Austrian boy, very pretty, quite a bit stupid.  At my best, I don't always make her feel so good about herself, and I wasn't back at my best yet.

"I've never gone to so many parties as I have since I won."  Somehow, I doubted that, but I let him continue.  "And so many girls.  They all want to come back to see my trophies." He raised his eyebrows suggestively as he sipped his tea.  "Where are all of yours?"

"The shop has them," Marlene replied, drinking her own tea. "In exchange for servicing my car."  She never liked them, either.  Garish things that required too much dusting.

James laughed loudly and long, then stopped.  "You're not kidding, are you?"

I shrugged.  "I know I won my races.  I don't need reminders."  Neither did Marlene.  If I died, she wouldn't have to look at them every day, not like Nina Rindt, unable to throw the damn thing away and just having to stare at it all the time.  He had wanted the trophy and she had wanted him, and he never got the trophy and she didn't have him.

"Well, I'm keeping mine," James insisted.

"I didn't say you shouldn't."  I finished my tea and put it down. 

Marlene collected the cups.  "Take your time - I have some telephone calls to make."  _Take your time_ , I thought as I watched her walk away, a pleasant sight.  So very suggestive, so very indirect - not my preference.

It did appear to be James's preference, though, or at least adequate, as he grasped my sides and pulled me into his lap, putting his hands inside of my robe and kissing me.  He was not drunk, now, and it was a much better kiss, and I have to confess to enjoying it.  His hands were gentle, almost too much so, almost an apology for hurting me all those weeks before, and it was annoying, so I bit his lip.

He yelped.  "Buck-toothed little twat!"  Gentleness went away, and that was better.  Clothing went away, as well, on our way up to the bedroom, his scattered in a way he doubtless found familiar, my robe off in the corner.  It was all a bit too hurried, a bit too frantic, rutting against each other naked on the bed like teenagers, kisses so hastily uncoordinated that our teeth bumped uncomfortably, but I can't deny it was sticky and satisfying when it was all done.

"Shit," James sighed as we lay next to each other, recovering. "I left my cigarettes in the... lack-of-sun-room."

"You really need those?" I grumbled, not wanting to move.

"Yes," he groaned, sitting up and stretching, "yes, I do.  Here, wait."  He went to the bathroom, and after the sound of water running, a damp washcloth came flying through the door and landed on my stomach.  I cleaned myself up, reluctantly rolling out of bed and putting on some actual clothing as a newly cleaned James reappeared.

"Where is my clothing?" he asked, scratching at his ridiculous hair.

"Doorway, bannister, landing, first stair..."

"Okay, okay."  He walked out, his stupidly appealing buttocks leading the way as I followed.  He collected his clothing as we walked, pulling it on.  I could hear Marlene on the telephone, speaking Italian too quickly for me to follow.  It didn't matter, her friends usually had very unimportant concerns.

We settled in the sun-room to watch the freezing rain gently tap at the glass.  I shifted away from James as he lit a cigarette, his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as he pulled in a deep drag.  "Those are not healthy."

"I do a number of things that aren't healthy."  James opened his eyes, grinning at me.  "Although I've heard they cause cancer in laboratory animals?  Maybe you shouldn't stay too close, little rat."  He was the first one to call me _rat_ to my face.  Plenty had called it to me behind my back, and I had found his honesty refreshing.  It had warmed me to him.  "Although, as fast as you are, you're the king of rats," he continued.  "I'll get you a little crown, a scepter..."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe next time."


End file.
